Only If For A Night
by sinandmisery
Summary: spy!AU; Chloe has a hard time after passing her RED test & Beca is there to comfort her. (Sort of...)


**A/N: quasi-prompted by duckayeh on tumblr. I wrote some not!fic on a spy 'verse for these two, and part of it got me thinking and this fic was born. There may or may not be more pieces of this verse.**

* * *

In the morning, the drinking won't make any sense. Now, however, it's perfect and the warmth wraps her up tight like a security blanket, protecting her from all the bad things she's supposed to be protecting the world from. She drinks until she's numb, but she's desperate to feel anything other than the hollow ache in her chest. There was logic at the time, but that was four vodka tonics ago.

She should be with Beca.

It was her last night as a person. _Was_ being the keyword because an hour ago, there were silenced bullets in a dark alley way and now she's _Agent Beale_. Her last night as a person is now her first night as a spy but she's currently MIA so she's not even sure if _that's_ true.

They don't even have one more day of freedom. There will be others, of course, but under false pretenses and Chloe isn't naïve anymore, not when it comes to this. This was the last night that really counted. Leaving Beijing means everything will change - will never go back to normal. Chloe doesn't know what that word means anymore.

She should be with Beca.

Feeling sorry for herself outweighs those thoughts, though, and she takes a drink straight from the bottle when she realizes the tonic's already gone. When her phone - her _civilian_ phone - rings, she ignores it.

When it rings the sixth time, she considers throwing it off the balcony.

On call number ten, she gives up and answers.

"I dun' wanna be bothered," she half-slurs into the phone.

"I don't care. Where are you?" Beca's half pissed off, half concerned, and 100 percent spitfire right now; even Chloe can recognize that through the drunken haze.

"Hidin'."

"Where?

"Dun' wanna see you, Bec," Chloe tells her. The truth is, she does want to see Beca - really, _really wants_ to see her - but not in the condition she's in. Not after what she just went through.

"Your drunk and being stupid. Now tell me where the hell you are or I'm sending out your new coworkers. I think you'd rather me find you than Walker."

_Walker_. Great. Just one more person to be disappointed in her. Chloe takes another drink. "Shit," she curses when she spills some of it on her jeans. "Shit shit shit."

"Chloe! Stop swearing and just tell me where you are," Beca demands.

"Fine," Chloe sighs, rattling off her location as she slips off her alcohol soaked jeans, knowing that even as they speak, Beca is probably checking the address against the location she's getting from the call.

**-xxx-**

Chloe isn't sober enough for this. Or maybe she's not drunk enough. She isn't really sure which, but either way, she shouldn't be kissing... touching... _feeling_ Beca the way she is. She isn't even exactly sure how it started. One minute they were walking (or in her case, stumbling) into the room, the next they're tumbling on the bed and she was straddling Beca's hips, mouths colliding against each other, hot and wet. Beca moans, pushes up against Chloe like she's looking for something more, and Chloe has never been able to deny Beca anything. She sure as hell isn't going to start now.

Even through the haze of alcohol, she manages to maneuver a thigh between Beca's, pushing up until Beca's grinding against her. She feels the heat radiating from Beca's center against her bare skin and pushes harder as her left hand trails up Beca's side.

"Fuck," she gasps when she pulls away, desperate for oxygen.

"Come back here," Beca demands, apparently not having the same issue because she immediately pulls Chloe back down, kissing her fiercely. She gains the upper hand while Chloe's caught off guard and flips them, a lean leg working its way between Chloe's.

"Beca, what are you..." she manages to gasp out in between kisses.

"Just shut up before I lose my nerve," Beca says, her voice a near growl that Chloe's _definitely_ never heard before.

Chloe does just that because she isn't going to fight it when Beca's hands are everywhere at once, clutching desperately, her lips moving just as quickly. As kisses move down her neck and across her clavicle, Chloe busies her hands, pushing Beca's shirt up until she can tug it off in one not-so-smooth motion. She fumbles with the clasp of her bra until it finally falls free, straps sliding down pale shoulders.

She breaks away from Beca's kisses, leaning up and bringing her mouth to an already hardened nipple. She sucks gently, teeth scraping the sensitive flesh and causing Beca's hips to buck against her.

"God, _Chloe_," she moans, fingers tangling in Chloe's already mussed hair.

**-xxx-**

Beca feels... well, she isn't exactly sure how she feels. _Dirty_ is the wrong word, but she sure doesn't feel good about herself, especially not when she sneaks out before Chloe's even awake. She was the sober one. She should have stopped things, but Beca has never really been one to hold herself back when it comes to what Chloe wants, drunk or not.

When Chloe kissed her, it wasn't anything like she had dreamed. Beca had allowed herself to fantasize about it from time to time and Chloe's lips were soft and gentle, her mouth warm and inviting. Last night, though, Chloe's kisses were hard and insistent and her mouth tasted bitter, like too much liquor and regret. Every logical, sane, rational part of her brain was screaming at her to stop, that Chloe was drunk and in the morning, Beca would be nothing but a regret. If Chloe even remembered, of course.

There was another part of her, however, that just _wanted_, and with the way Chloe's hands were pushing underneath her clothes, she knew there was no way she was going to be able to stop. Maybe it wasn't how it was _supposed_ to be, but it is how it was.

All she wants to do now is get on the plane and sleep on the flight home; use the time to block it all out. It's _Fight Club _theory, she guess - _If you can wake up in a different time, a different place, could you wake up a different person? _- except Beca doesn't really want to be a different person, she just ants the memories to go away. What happens in Beijing, stays in Beijing. Right?

Except maybe she doesn't want to block it all out. She doesn't want to forget the way Chloe felt. The way she sounded. The way she knew exactly how and where to touch, even in her inebriated state.

**-xxx-**

Their delayed flight is what she figures is a punishment for her sins; forcing her to sit in a private airport terminal, next to Chloe, reliving every second of the night before while they wait for the thunderstorm to pass. It plays in her mind like a movie on repeat, and she squirms in her seat, suddenly hot and itchy. Her clothes feel too small, constricting in ways they weren't before, and she's pretty sure she is going crazy.

She shouldn't let one stupid mistake affect her so much, but damn if best friends aren't the most awkward one night stands ever.


End file.
